When the branches are cut off
the trees sprout again and again.
The forced rift between the lovers
whet their love more and more.
The lovers will not ditch each other
if they are pulled by love and not lust.
The lovers don't get hitched
as the vulture bitch about them.
One can snap the knot of love
if he or she yields to the spell
of caste or the religious cult.
One can't if she lies in his bosom.
When he breathes, dawns the pit
in her lovely cheeks. When he looks
at his paragon, she feels bathed
in cool, crystal drizzles.
The rogues may slay the lover.
They can mow the cool lawn of love.
Love is not a cat to drive out
from their angelic great hearts.
When the branches are cut off
the trees sprout again and again.
The forced rift between the lovers
whet their love more and more.
The lovers will not ditch each other
if they are pulled by love and not lust.
The lovers don't get hitched
as the vultures bitch about them.
One can snap the knot of love
if he or she yields to the spell
of caste or the religious cult.
One can't, if she lies in his bosom.
When he breathes, dawns the pit
in her lovely cheeks. When he looks
at his paragon, she feels bathed
in cool, crystal drizzles.
The rogues may slay the lover.
They can mow the cool lawn of love.
Love is not a cat to drive out
from their angelic great hearts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love is not a cat to drive out... Well written. Sylva.